


Less than Words

by arcapelago (arcanewinter)



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-17
Updated: 2011-07-17
Packaged: 2017-10-23 09:24:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/248745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcanewinter/pseuds/arcapelago
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: They haven't really known each other long, but sometimes it seems to Charles as though Erik is the one reading his mind [Erik's latent telepathic abilities] (1stclass_kink.).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Less than Words

_"You know you were thinking the same."_

It's a line that has probably dropped from Charles' lips a hundred times in his life. But that day, it came from Erik.

Charles never gave it any thought, because Charles isn't very hard to figure out. A stranger on the street stands a reasonable chance at predicting his opinions based on appearance alone, and Erik wasn't a stranger. So when Erik sometimes looked up at him just as his name passed through Charles' mind; when Erik sometimes suggested the very idea Charles didn't think to mention; when Erik never misunderstood him, even late into the night when Charles rambled with scotch and fatigue, Charles never gave it any thought, because Charles couldn't be so lucky.

It was only Erik's run-of-the-mill intuition, until it was too specific, and then it was mere coincidence, until it happened too often. The only explanation in the end was Charles himself, who could not conceive of the silence in which most people lived their lives; Charles, whose mind must sometimes escape its imposed limits, slipping out to whisper into Erik's ear without his permission now and again.

So Charles never gave it any thought, until Erik was gone, and Charles couldn't touch him if he wanted to.

Now it's all he thinks about.

His voice is reserved for his students, his duty as protector and leader. His voice belongs to his reason, to the world around him, its events and its hard reality. His voice is everything he owes to everyone else.

But his thoughts are his. His thoughts are bound by no such debt. And so in the dark corners, in the spaces between waking and slumber, in the pit of his fears and his loneliness he is free to drown in the plea he will never say aloud.

 _I'll see it your way. I'll do anything. Come back to me._

To say it aloud would make him accountable. To say it aloud would be the betrayal of everything he represents, everything he's built, everything he promises.

But safe in his silence, in the great and empty hallways of his mind, it is a coin in a well, a prayer to a darker god.

 _Can you hear me, Erik?_

* * *

Charles is well protected when he and his team venture out to meet them at the appointed time. There's no fighting, not yet, but Charles is not a fool, and he knows by now that the more he hopes for a thing, the less he can reach it. He sees Erik approaching across the wide secluded path of their rendezvous and knows he is as good as a mirage.

 _Come back to me._

Behind the trail of Erik's red cloak are others, his Brotherhood. Some are as scarred by the world as Erik; others don't realize they could still choose sides.

 _I'll see it your way._

Like Charles' team, they are not necessary. There will be no war tonight.

 _I'll do anything._

There is a seven-year-old girl holding Emma's hand, a governor's daughter, a bargaining chip that has served its purpose this time. She is frightened, but unharmed.

Charles comes to rest some twenty feet from them; the rest take up their positions further behind him still. He would have come closer, they are _friends_ and he won't give that up, but Erik's expression is such a mask beneath his helmet that Charles keeps his respectful distance. He extends his hand to the girl, gently soothing her fears, encouraging her to cross the space between them. _We'll take you home_ , he tells her, and he wonders if Emma did the same when the girl was taken.

The girl lets go of Emma's hand and Charles smiles to her as kindly as he can as she approaches. When she reaches his chair he gently clasps her hand in his, searching her eyes until he's sure she is calm. "You've been very brave," he says to her, and she looks from him to Alex as he steps up and crouches next to her. "Alex will keep you safe until you're home."

Alex catches her as Charles sends her to sleep, drawing her ordeal to a close. He also takes her memories, of where she's been and what she's seen, but for whose benefit he doesn't admit. Alex stands up with her, holding her carefully as he retreats. Charles doesn't move, but he can hear Hank and Sean as they turn and follow Alex back the way they came.

What Charles' team knows implicitly, Erik must communicate directly, a gesture of his hand sending his Brotherhood away, and they gradually obey. Raven, who won't look at Charles, is the last to turn from him.

Their solitude strengthens with every step the others take, and the distance between them shrinks by comparison though neither moves any closer.

They come as many. They part alone.

 _Come back._

Erik is a titan where he stands, untouched, unfeeling, unreachable.

 _Your way._

The night deepens, clouds passing between the moon and them, and Erik slowly turns, his cloak swaying in his stead. He leaves Charles to watch how easy it is to walk away; Charles closes his eyes because he won't.

 _Anything._

* * *

It's nearly dawn, and Charles is still wandering the grounds of his estate--at least, the places he can still get to, where the way is paved and the incline is gradual.

The grounds are embarrassingly extensive, wider even than he's admitted to the others, and when he swivels on the old path to look at his childhood home it is many times reduced in the distance, its impressive spires scaled to pen strokes against the night sky.

He knows the sounds of these acres well enough not to mistake the rustle in the grass behind him for anything but Erik's footstep.

Charles is honestly surprised by how much it hurts.

 _Anything._

The sky behind the spires is lightening by immeasurable degrees, and he wonders how dark it will still be when Erik leaves again. Despite his silent pleading he hopes for nothing. Despite his reflexive begging he expects nothing.

When Erik speaks it is only his voice that Charles hears. It is all of Erik Charles will ever hear again.

"You'll never hate them like I do, Charles."

It's not an observation. It's a response.

Charles lifts his head, casting his gaze behind him. He can just see Erik's shoulder, his restless hand at his side.

"Do I need to?" Charles answers.

When Erik doesn't reply, Charles closes his eyes in the silence.

 _Erik, can you hear me?_

The wall between them feels as impenetrable as always, but Charles can't take his hand from its surface.

 _If I can never hear you again, at least give me this._

The wind whispers in the grass, but it's the only sound.

 _Erik, please--_

"Isn't this enough?"

Erik's voice is rough, vindictive, but Charles holds it to his chest, wraps it around himself until he can hardly breathe.

"Isn't it enough that we talk at all?"

 _It will never be enough_ , Charles answers, and he can't open his eyes lest he reveal how much he needs this, though he's already said, he's already laid himself bare as others are laid bare to him.

"I can't have you in here, Charles." Charles can barely hear him. "I can't."

He's leaving, and Charles knows he couldn't stop him even if he still had legs to run with. He lets him go, listening until there's nothing, turning only when he's sure he won't see him. The land beyond his own is empty.

But Charles isn't alone. Now he knows it.

 _Anything, Erik._   



End file.
